


who's gonna ride your wild horses

by darkrosaleen



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Incest Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/pseuds/darkrosaleen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn’t seem fair that Declan was the one Ronan needed and Gansey was the one Ronan had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who's gonna ride your wild horses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



Gansey had never wanted a brother until he met Ronan Lynch. Helen was more than enough sibling for anyone, and he couldn’t imagine that a brother would be noticeably different. Besides, Gansey was always a solitary creature, and lack of privacy made him skittish.

Then Ronan took him to the Barns, that wild, rambunctious place where whiskey flowed like water and music broke out as easily as fistfights. It was an overwhelmingly masculine place, tempered only by Mrs. Lynch (“Aurora,” she would correct him, brushing his hair off his face with more tenderness than his own mother ever managed). There was more touching at the Barns than at the Gansey residence, and even the violent touches had echoes of affection Gansey missed in his own family life.

He didn’t know whether it was a brother thing or an Irish thing or a Lynch thing, but Ronan and Declan and Matthew were closer than Gansey could imagine being with Helen. Ronan’s love for his older brother in particular bordered on worship, and it was no less intense when they were at each other’s throats. Their fights got physical in a way that shocked Gansey, who even as a child wouldn’t have dared lay a finger on Helen. Declan and Ronan fought until they drew blood, and in a way, it was more intimate than their gestures of affection.

It made Gansey jealous, despite knowing that Ronan wouldn't have invited him there if Gansey didn't mean something to him. But whenever Declan and Ronan would roughhouse, shoving each other down into the carpet, Gansey would get so hard he had to excuse himself, feeling Niall’s leering grin follow him. There in the bathroom, frantically jerking off to the thought of Declan pinning Ronan’s wrists, Declan’s hips rubbing down against Ronan’s, Declan’s face pressed into Ronan’s exposed throat, Gansey realized that jealousy didn’t even begin to cover it. 

-

Ronan came back to Monmouth six days after the funeral with bloody knuckles and alcohol on his breath.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” he slurred, as Gansey carefully patched up his hand. “Said I should’ve died instead of Dad. Fucking piece of shit, fuck him. I hope he gets hit by a fucking truck.”

Gansey knew Ronan well enough to know that his venom for Declan was actually grief for his father. He was prepared for Ronan to start sobbing into his shoulder, wanting to be held and reassured. He was prepared for Ronan to abdicate the couch in the middle of the night and crawl into Gansey’s bed. Part of him was even prepared for the hard-on Ronan started rubbing against his hip. Gansey couldn’t turn Ronan down when he was heavy and drunk and warm, grinding sleepily against Gansey and panting against his neck.

“Love you,” Ronan breathed, his fingers digging painfully into Gansey’s sides. He said it like it wasn’t the first time, like he’d said it a million times before and would again. “You’re my brother.”

That made Gansey shudder and come, grinding against Ronan’s stomach. Ronan made a desperate noise and grabbed Gansey more tightly. Gansey looped his arms around Ronan and raked his nails up and down Ronan’s back. 

“Brothers,” he whispered, and that was all it took for Ronan to come, too. He hid his moans against Gansey’s chest, and he didn’t move when he was finished, letting Gansey pull him close and trace the ridges of his spine. Gansey wondered if the fierce, protective ache in his chest was anything like what Declan felt. 

-

Niall’s death had left a hole in Ronan that Gansey had no idea how to fill. Ronan’s already pronounced violent tendencies seemed to triple overnight, and more often than not it was Declan in the line of fire. Gansey couldn’t help noticing with some discomfort that Ronan usually picked fights he was likely to lose.

Gansey never slept anyway, so he got in the habit of waiting up for Ronan with a first aid kit. “You could have a little sympathy. He lost his father too, you know,” he said, dabbing gently at a cut on Ronan’s eyebrow. Ronan abruptly stood up, his expression shifting to rage.

“Don’t you fucking dare, you have no idea—” He turned away from Gansey and pressed his hands against his eyes. Gansey remained on the couch, fighting the overwhelming need to stand up and smother Ronan in a hug. It hurt more than it had any right to.

Eventually, Ronan sank to his knees on the floor. He leaned his face against Gansey’s knees, holding onto Gansey’s calves with shaking hands. Gansey allowed himself the feeling of Ronan’s soft hair bristling against his palms. Gansey’s chest hurt less the longer they sat there.

“I need him to,” Ronan said quietly, “because I didn’t—I need him to. I need _him_.” 

His voice shook, and Gansey ran a reassuring hand over the back of Ronan’s neck. “I know. I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem fair that Declan was the one Ronan needed and Gansey was the one Ronan had. 

When Ronan nudged his head between Gansey’s legs, Gansey couldn’t manage more than weak protests. He made sure to keep touching Ronan, guiding his movements with a hand at the back of his head. Ronan liked firm direction, and he shivered and moaned when Gansey called him a good boy and spilled all over his throat. Making Ronan come was as easy as ordering him to, helped by wiping a finger through the mess on his neck and making Ronan lick it clean.

It worried Gansey a little that Ronan was so suggestible. Pleasure left Ronan raw and vulnerable, open to the full intensity of his emotions. Ronan’s love was a fierce, untamable thing, and Gansey was continually awed that Ronan trusted him with it. Gansey barely trusted himself.

Ronan’s breathing got slower as he came down, but he didn’t get up from his knees. “You shouldn’t call me good. You know I’m not—you shouldn’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Gansey tugged on Ronan’s chin until he lifted his gaze. Ronan looked up at Gansey with the awe and fear of a worshiper kneeling before his god, or maybe a son kneeling before his father. Gansey tamped down the heat in his blood and swept his thumbs over Ronan’s temples.

“Of course I mean it.” It was true, although Gansey would have said almost anything to comfort Ronan when he was like this. “You have a good heart, Ronan. You just lose sight of it sometimes.”

Ronan stood, pulling Gansey up into a hug. He bent his head low to press his face in Gansey’s shoulder. “Keep talking,” he murmured, pressing his swelling cock against Gansey’s thigh. “Tell me I’m…”

Gansey pushed Ronan backwards onto the bed. He coaxed another hard, shuddering orgasm out of Ronan, babbling incoherent praise the whole time. It wasn’t hard to run his mouth on the subject when Ronan was stretched out beneath him.

Ronan’s second orgasm left him drowsy, but he was still tense when Gansey curled up against his back. Gansey knew he hadn’t slept well since his father died. He wondered how much of that came from losing his home and the only family he had left. 

“Declan used to sing.” Ronan’s voice was so low that Gansey wondered if he was talking to himself. “When I couldn’t sleep, I’d get into his bed and he’d sing to me.”

Gansey pressed his face into the back of Ronan’s neck. “What songs did he sing?”

Ronan shrugged. “Irish stuff, mostly. Sometimes the Beatles.”

Gansey didn’t know any Irish songs, so he sang “Blackbird” until Ronan’s tight shoulders loosened and his breathing became even. 

-

Kavinsky’s death changed Ronan. He was more thoughtful in both senses of the word—more quiet and more kind—but there was something restless about him too, something wild itching to come out. Maybe the part of him that had belonged to Kavinsky needed a new outlet. The thought made Gansey want to throw things.

Ronan was definitely a wild thing that night, scratching stinging lines down Gansey’s back and bucking his hips like an unbroken horse. “Gansey,” he breathed, his voice a low hum that buzzed against Gansey’s skin. “I want—fuck me. Please.”

Gansey froze. They were both shirtless, grinding in the middle of Gansey’s bed. Ronan reacted to Gansey’s sudden stillness with another buck of his hips and a needy sound that made Gansey’s pulse trip.

“Okay,” he said, laying kisses along Ronan’s jaw and down his neck. It made Ronan whine again. “Okay, okay. I’ll fuck you, just settle down.”

Ronan didn’t settle down. When Gansey returned from the bathroom with lube and condoms, Ronan was stretched out on his front, slowly humping the bed. Gansey was so transfixed by the muscles in his back and the tattoo sprawling across his shoulders that he didn’t immediately notice that Ronan was completely naked.

Gansey took off his pants and crawled onto the bed. Ronan was the palest person Gansey had ever seen, and he couldn’t resist leaning over and kissing the small of his back, down the curve of his ass to the soft back of his thigh. Ronan swore when Gansey nipped at the skin there, and he groaned when Gansey pushed his thighs apart and mouthed at the veins showing through his skin.

“Fuck, Gansey, don’t.” Ronan’s powerful thighs were tense under Gansey’s hands, and he was having trouble staying still. “Fuck me, come on, fuck.”

Gansey would have loved to stay down there, biting and teasing Ronan’s thighs before moving up and taking him apart with his tongue, but Ronan was antsy in a way that put Gansey on high alert. He paused long enough to leave a mark on Ronan’s inner thigh before crawling up and covering Ronan’s body with his own. 

“Shh.” Gansey rubbed the back of Ronan’s neck as he reached for the condom. He tried to be gentle at first, but Ronan whined and shoved his hips until Gansey started fucking him harder. It wasn’t hard to lose control after that, not when each brutal thrust made Ronan go a little looser, burying loud noises in the pillow. 

Gansey left another love bite on the back of Ronan’s shoulder, buried in the knots of his tattoo. Then he leaned over and worried it with his teeth, making Ronan shudder and drop his head. Gansey had the sudden urge to cover Ronan in marks and let everyone know he was taken. 

“God, Ronan, you’re beautiful.” Ronan moaned, his hand making slick noises as he jerked off. It was a filthy sound that made Gansey rut harder. “You’re beautiful and you’re mine and I’m never letting you go.”

He sank his teeth into Ronan’s shoulder, and Ronan came with a soundless shiver, muscles clamping down on Gansey. He went still and boneless, and he didn’t move until after Gansey came and pulled out. Ronan curled away from Gansey and buried his face in the pillow, shoulders shaking. 

He let Gansey rub up and down his back, murmuring nonsense about how good he’d been and how Gansey would take care of him. It was more for Gansey’s sake than Ronan’s, but he could already feel the tension draining out of Ronan’s broad shoulders. Gansey thought he’d fallen asleep until he spoke. 

“What if you weren’t the only one?”

“Hm?” Gansey was fading, lulled by Ronan’s warm skin and slow breathing. 

Ronan shifted. “You said I was yours. What if I let somebody else do…what you did?”

Gansey’s stomach clenched first with jealousy, then with guilt. He tightened his arm around Ronan’s waist. “You’re mine no matter what you did with anyone else.” A terrible part of him was suddenly happy that Kavinsky was dead, if it meant Ronan wasn’t touching anyone else.

“Even if…” Ronan trailed off, but there was tension in his back again. 

“Even if.” Gansey leaned over and kissed Ronan’s shoulder blade, near the mark he’d left. “Brothers, remember?”

Ronan’s breath hitched. “Gansey, fuck." He curled in on himself. "I love you so fucking much, but I just—I can’t stop, I’ve tried so hard to stop needing him and I _can’t_. I know it makes me a sinner, but he’s all I have left of Dad.”

Gansey froze. His heart was racing like mad, but he must have misheard Ronan. There was no way that meant what it sounded like. “I’m sure he needs you too,” he said, fighting back thoughts of Declan and Ronan reaching for each other. “He’s your brother. He loves you more than anything in the world.”

Ronan made a soft noise, and there was no mistaking it for anything but arousal.

-

Gansey waited in the Pig outside Declan’s dorm. Ronan had spent the whole car ride tense and anxious, fidgeting with his bracelets and changing the radio every ten seconds. Gansey had felt a rare moment of irritation towards his best girl, for making sure he kept his hand on the gear shift and not on the back of Ronan’s neck.

Gansey was a little jealous. Despite Ronan doing everything short of saying it out loud, Gansey couldn’t quite believe that such a thing existed outside his feverish imagination. He couldn’t reconcile the heat of his fantasies with the reality that Ronan would always love Declan more than him. He was lucky that he got to feel any of Ronan's wild love; he couldn’t deny Ronan the person he needed.

From where he was parked, Gansey saw Ronan pull Declan under a fire escape and hug him. He clung to Declan like a drowning man, his face buried in the side of Declan’s neck. It was the same way Ronan hugged Gansey, but unlike Gansey, Declan was too startled to do anything except clutch at the back of Ronan’s shirt. After a while, Declan brought his hand to the back of Ronan’s head, and even halfway down the block, Gansey could see the way Ronan melted into the touch.

Their bodies were angled so that Gansey didn’t see the moment it happened. One moment they were hugging like brothers, the next they were kissing, open-mouthed and desperate with their hands everywhere. Declan tugged on the back of Ronan’s shirt, and Ronan pulled Declan’s hair. They kissed like they fought, with teeth and muscle and an unshakable devotion. Gansey felt some small piece of the universe slotting back into place.

They eventually pulled away, resting their foreheads together as they caught their breath. Declan was saying something, his mouth curling in a smile that Gansey hadn’t seen since those long nights at the Barns. His eyes, Niall Lynch’s eyes, were filled with so much love that Gansey felt the need to turn away. He knew that look inside and out.

Gansey was still hard when Ronan threw himself into the passenger seat. He was tense and breathing hard, but there was energy in his expression that Gansey hadn’t seen in a long time. He looked, for lack of a better word, happy.

“You’ll fuck me when we get home, yeah?” Ronan had his bright blue eyes fixed on Gansey, and he smirked when his words made Gansey groan and adjust himself. It was the sort of smirk that could get them both in a lot of trouble.

Gansey rubbed the top of Ronan’s head before taking off the parking brake. “Whatever you want. Brothers?”

Ronan shivered. “Brothers.” He kept his hand on Gansey’s thigh all the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could have given these three the epic longfic they deserve, but it was not to be. I hope you still like it! Big thank you to my beta for making this fic better and for listening to me whine about it.


End file.
